


Exhausting Reunion

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Plug'n'Play, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex looks for Blast Off for business, and gets a bit more.</p>
<p>Blast Off, Vortex, OC / flirting, smut (of the p’n’p variety)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhausting Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** flirting, smut (of the p’n’p variety)  
>  **Continuity:** G1 (part of ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)), pre-war  
>  **Characters:** Blast Off, Vortex, OC  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Summary:** Vortex looks for Blast Off for business, and gets a bit more.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty
> 
> **Note:** Inspired by ultharkitty’s fic [The Cybertronian Way](http://archiveofourown.org/works/448255), or by a certain part of it. ;)

Vortex wandered through the streets of Kaon, in an area he didn't often go.

It was a rather quiet area for Kaon’s standards, and not the most exciting place the ‘copter could imagine. But Blast Off lived there, and it had a bar the shuttle often went to.

Blast Off had been on a long tour in space for Onslaught for the last seven quartex. Their boss had given the shuttle some time off after that, and that would be Vortex and Blast Off’s first meeting after a long time.

The bar Vortex was looking for was for flyers only. For _fast_ flyers only, and many people there were either supersonic jets or shuttleformers.

The bouncer didn’t dare deny Vortex to enter the bar, however, even though he didn’t have wings and couldn't fly as fast as the usual guests.

Inside, the first room Vortex entered was loud. Music bellowed from speakers hidden in the walls, and except the ever present wings attached to the mechs and femmes, the location looked like every other club Vortex had ever been in.

He knew that Blast Off couldn’t be in there, and so he stepped back in the small corridor. He tried the next door, and came into a quiet room, in which soft chatter was the only noise. There was no music, and the light was dimmed. 

With a grin, Vortex walked past a booth where two mechs sat close together. It was obvious they tried to hide their engines’ rumbling, and the established interface, but Vortex saw it anyway. He wondered briefly if Blast Off knew what some people did in there.

The dark stature of purple and brown plating that was Blast Off was clear to see sitting at the counter. The back covered in heat resistance tiles faced Vortex as he came closer, and so the shuttle didn’t see him. The flyer standing next to Blast Off, though, turned his head, and frowned at the ‘copter.

The mech didn’t pay much attention to Vortex, and shrugged. He started talking again, addressing Blast Off, who wasn't listening – Vortex knew the shuttle well enough by now to see that.

Vortex didn’t understand what the flyer was talking about, but he didn’t care. Interrupting the flyer mid-sentence, Vortex squeezed himself into the small gap between Blast Off and the stranger, managing not to touch the shuttle.

“Hey Blast Off, what’s up?” With his battle mask withdrawn, Vortex flashed a grin at the stranger, then he looked back at Blast Off.

Blast Off raised an optical ridge. Glancing at Vortex first, he turned his head to look over his shoulder, and then back at the ‘copter. “I probably don’t want to know how you got in here,” he said, ignoring the annoyed expression and resentful huff of the other mech.

Vortex couldn’t help but feel triumphant about Blast Off’s reaction. The shuttle hadn’t sent him away, or told him to shut up; he also didn’t seem interested in the flyer at all.

“Excuse me?” the aforementioned mech growled, trying to push one of Vortex’ rotor blades away. “I don’t think you belong here. How about you leave us alone? We were talking.”

“As far as I could see, you were talking, and Blast Off here wasn’t even listening.” Vortex’ grin broadened, and a threatening tone crept into his voice. “How about you leave us alone and let us talk about business.”

The flyer looked from Vortex to Blast Off who didn’t seem to pay attention at all and merely sipped from his cube. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. With another huff full of hurt pride, he glared a last time at Vortex, and then left.

“Heh,” Vortex uttered, and sat down on the chair that was blocked by the other before. Blast Off still only sipped his energon and didn’t look at Vortex. But the shuttle gave a brief nod, and two fingers on the energon cube twitched in a waving manner.

Vortex’ triumphant feeling grew. He knew that gesture. While he’d never heard Blast Off actually thank anyone verbally, this combination of movements could be interpreted as a non-verbal appreciation. 

Vortex pretended not to have seen it. “Who was that?”

Blast Off shrugged. “Nobody. Just some annoyance.” After that, he turned to the ‘copter. “And what business do you want to discuss? I’m on my time off.”

“I have some information from Ons. He’s sent me because he doesn’t want to use comms for this.”

The shuttle frowned. “What is it about?”

“I have no idea,” Vortex answered truthfully, and took out a datapad. “He didn’t tell me. He put it on here.”

“And this couldn’t wait till I’ll be back in HQ in four cycles?”

Vortex shrugged. “Apparently not.”

When Onslaught had given Vortex the order to look for the shuttle to give him the datapad, he’d been excited. And he still was. Maybe Vortex would be able do more than just give Blast Off the information…

With a sigh, the shuttle took the datapad, and connected it with the small dataport near his audial. Purple optics flickered during the transfer, and Vortex watched curiously as though he’d be able to find out what it was about alone by looking.

He didn’t, of course.

After almost three kliks, Blast Off detached the pad, and huffed. He shook his head, but kept quiet.

Vortex glanced at the device, still curious, but resisted reaching out for it.

Instead, he waved towards the barkeeper who came closer reluctantly.

“Two of what my friend had,” Vortex ordered cheerfully, and grinned at Blast Off. “If I’m here, I need to try what you fly-boys drink.”

The shuttle frowned. “Do whatever you want.” He shrugged, and drank the last bit of his cube. “If it’s too strong for you, I won’t bring you home.” Despite the words, Vortex’ could hear the slight amusement in the voice.

The ‘copter shuffled his rotors to get more comfortable, and looked around. His optics flicked back to the pair of interfacing mechs that he’d passed when he entered, but the mechs weren’t there. Maybe they’d gone to a more private place after all.

The idea of interfacing with Blast Off in here, in public, in between all the other mechs without them noticing was very appealing. Vortex’ rotors began quivering. 

The drinks were placed in front of the ‘copter, and he turned back. The energon looked darker than the high grade Vortex was used to. He took a sip; the oddness of the taste made his optics flicker, and the potential made his intakes hitch.

“Too strong?” Blast Off asked, a teasing undertone in the voice.

Vortex shook his head, but didn’t answer verbally. He merely took another sip, and let the high grade burn its way down into his tanks. From there, a pleasant warmth spread into his lines, even into his fingers which began to tickle.

The shuttle huffed, amused. It was a sound that sent a thrill down Vortex’ back struts, and that caused the quivering of rotors to increase for a moment.

Blast Off looked at them, Vortex could see it from his peripheral vision, and he smirked. He shuffled them again, flicking them and the tail rotor blades on his elbow.

Blast Off didn’t even try to hide his interest as he drank again, then glanced back at the ‘copter and the rotors. There was even a tiny grin on his face, and Vortex wondered how many drinks the shuttle had already had.

“Why are you here anyway?” Vortex wanted to know, sounding innocent. “I mean if you only talked to nobody?”

Blast Off shrugged. “I had my reasons.”

Vortex leant closer to the shuttle. He sipped once, and put the drink down, but licked over his lip plates as though there was a drop he didn’t want to waste. “Are those reasons relevant to my interests?” The suggestiveness in his tone was deliberate, as was the new stronger twitch of quivering rotors. 

Purple optics behind the other’s visor flicked to the blades, then to Vortex’ lips, and Blast Off leant towards the ‘copter. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Vortex hindered his energy field from flaring. Oh, Blast Off was in a teasing mood, wasn’t that promising?

The ‘copter grinned, and placed his hand next to Blast Off’s. Slowly, he shifted it closer to the heat shield till he could touch the outer rim with his little finger. He stroked it lightly, and earned himself that soft clicking sound from Blast Off’s ailerons flicking against the legs. Blast Off’s fingers on the teased hand tensed. 

The shuttle didn’t push Vortex away, and that alone caused Vortex’ temperature to rise. The thrill of finding out how far he could go was always exciting, and even more so if he didn’t know how drunk Blast Off was. Often, after a few cubes of high grade, the shuttle’s aversion to touch vanished - sometimes even completely.

“Did your reasons involve you wanting to use somebody?” Vortex cheekily asked, keeping stroking the heat shield.

Blast Off’s engine rumbled softly. “Maybe?”

“And? Did you find anybody?”

Blast Off huffed, and the tiny grin became a one-sided smirk. “I only found nobody.” The shuttle’s energy field flared stronger from his lower arm, and seeped into Vortex’ fingers. Together with the sensation that the high grade caused, the warm friction of fields grinding against each other sent a shudder through Vortex.

“Perhaps you need to look closer?”

Behind the visor, Blast Off raised an optical ridge. The smirk was still there, and the energy field extended even more. When Blast Off answered, his voice had this teasing condescension, and a hint of static. Vortex couldn't tell if it was intentional. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

\---

They got as far as a small alleyway, still quite close to the bar, before they established the connection. 

Vortex moaned. Hands were placed on his aft and he was lifted on a dumpster. Energy and data flowed back and forth the interface, teasing and demanding at the same time. He was allowed to touch Blast Off, to let his hands run over the strong plating, the delicate winglets and sensitive heat shields. But despite that and the shuttle’s inebriation and need, it was always clear that Blast Off was in charge.

The shuttle pushed one of Vortex’ hands down, placed it at the purple side near a transformation seam that Vortex knew was sensitive. His fingers dug between the metal plates; Blast Off moaned.

The shuttle put a hand next to Vortex’ head at the wall for purchase when their fields mingled to one, and the pleasure was heavily amplified.

Sensor nodes burned under charge, and Vortex let his engine loose. It switched to a higher setting just like his cooling system did. Black fingers enclosed Vortex’ exposed interface hardware at his side, a hot touch on his filled port and where his cable emerged, and was squeezed – hard. It dented the metal, the ‘copter heard it squeal, but this was unimportant. He cried out, surprise and a mix of pleasure and pain pushed him almost over the edge of overload, and it was difficult to hold back.

He clutched at Blast Off’s shoulder and side, intakes venting deeply. He tried to slow the stream, and the waves of pleasure, but failed.

His climax crashed over him as an unstoppable force. It was hot and cold, pressure and delight all at once in a whirlwind of nonsense data and clear information. His sensor net was on its edge, and the strain even increased when Blast Off’s overload fired back into him. The static in his audials drowned out their noises, and he couldn’t care less right then if anyone else heard them.

The overload left Vortex in a state of warm, pleasant dizziness, and not for the last time that night.

Later, Vortex remembered overloading in the elevator of the building Blast Off lived in when they’d tried to reach the shuttle’s apartment. Crushed between the other’s bulk and the mirror wall, the glass broken due to the force with that he was pressed against it.

He remembered overloading on Blast Off’s couch, straddling the shuttle’s thighs. Their cables twitched from charge while hands stroked and caressed and mapped out as much as they could of the other’s frame, their fields pulsating so slow but intense and urging as the energy flow through the connection.

And, most clearly, Vortex remembered the almost sensual overload from just a klik ago, and the unusual interface. It’d been slow, and dizzying due to the high grade and the energy draining overloads from earlier. Blast Off had leaned over him, the shuttle’s face buried in his neck cables while Vortex had clawed at the other’s back as though at a lifeline.

Vortex’ head spun. His energy had dropped to a very low level, and he’d need to recharge soon. But the dizziness and lingering pleasure were too enjoyable to give in to unconsciousness just yet.

Blast Off had rolled over, and Vortex almost expected to be thrown out any moment. He didn’t know how he was meant to walk like this, with his charge so low, and systems about to shut down any moment.

His worry was unnecessary, because next to him, Blast Off had already gone into recharge. The other’s engine worked slowly, and only the cooling fans whirled louder. The joints were relaxed, and a wonderful warmth radiated from the shuttle.

It was tranquilising.

There was a little struggle inside Vortex’ processor, his reasonable and logical side battling against the thrilled and pleasure-seeking side. The latter won.

With a drowsy grin, he edged closer to the sleeping mech, and pressed himself against Blast Off’s side, placing a hand on the warm and subtly vibrating chest.

Vortex remembered to set an alarm, just in case. He’d need to wake up earlier than the shuttle - if he couldn’t convince Blast Off that there was a very pleasant reason for him to still be there.

And, oh, how Vortex hoped he’d be able to convince Blast Off in the morning…


End file.
